


Awakenings IX (in which Greg Lestrade relinquishes control for the evening...)

by sanguisuga



Series: Awakenings [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Foursome, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Power Play, Role Reversal, Roleplay, Sibling Incest, holmescest, vampire kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene in which Greg's boys introduce a new game and take over for the night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mycroft looked down at the silver-haired man lying next to him, smiling fondly as he snorted softly, wriggling deeper into the mattress in his sleep. It was one of their usual Wednesday nights together, although it had not been one of their typical bouts of love-making. Mycroft had endured an extremely frustrating day at work, and his remarkably perceptive silver-haired lover had recognised the look of need in his eyes immediately upon seeing him. Without uttering one word, he had forced him to his knees just as soon as the attic door had closed. It hadn't taken long for Mycroft to kindle his lover's flesh into full awareness, and Gregory had started to thrust into his mouth deep and strong, both hands fisted into his soft red hair, clutching the sides of his head hard as he moved. Mycroft had swiftly drifted away, his mind blissfully disengaging as his body was used, the tension simply melting out of his bones as Gregory fucked it all out of him.

He had only become aware of himself again as his lover had groaned loudly and spilled across his tongue, gentling his motions as he rode out the crest of his orgasm. Mycroft had licked him clean as Gregory ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at him with a charming if somewhat bleary smile. "Feeling better, my pet?"

"Gregory... I am always better when I am with you."

Greg had scoffed quietly as he grasped Mycroft's upper arms and pulled him to his feet and then down into a tender kiss, growling quietly as he tasted himself on his lover's lips. "Romantic sop."

Mycroft chuckled. "Again, my love - only with you."

He had manoeuvred Greg's body back toward the mattress, and had swiftly prepared himself for bed, stripping down to his silken pants and cleaning his teeth. However, by the time he had emerged from the small toilet, Gregory was already snoring gently, his face buried deep into Mycroft's pillow. It wasn't entirely unusual for his lover to fall asleep at this hour of the evening, but he generally did have at least enough energy left to ask about Mycroft's day, or to answer questions about his own. It was extremely unusual for Gregory to pass out in this manner without a warm body to snuggle with, though. It was this slight discrepancy in his lover's behaviour that made Mycroft pause. He studied him quietly as he perched by his side, taking note of the faint worry lines in his face, the tension that was present in the set of his shoulders, even deep in sleep. He was truly exhausted, that much was clear, but there seemed to be something else weighing on his mind.  

Mycroft tapped his knee as he contemplated, then reached for his mobile with a decisive nod to himself. He knew that his brother was just downstairs in his lab, but Sherlock was infinitely more likely to respond positively to a texted request than a physical summons.

_'Brother dear - I feel there is something we should discuss regarding Gregory. Are you available?'_

The response came nearly immediately. _'I will be in ten minutes. We are including John in our chat, yes?'_

_'Naturally.'_

In fact, before coming upstairs to the attic, Mycroft had made a quick detour into the sitting room, where John had been reading quietly in his armchair. He had bent down for a quick kiss on his cheek, and John had chuckled slightly before capturing his face in both hands and snogging him quite thoroughly. He had released him with a soft smile and a light tap on the bum, making Mycroft blush and giggle. John seemed to love the sound of either of the Holmes brothers giggling, as he did whatever he could to induce it. Mycroft was sure that he had not yet retired for the night as it was still relatively early, so he prepared himself to head downstairs.

He had relaxed his own stringent guidelines on what attire he felt was appropriate to wear while he was at Baker Street, but he was in no manner comfortable with the idea of heading down in nothing but his bloody underpants. Mycroft slipped into a pair of his own satiny pyjama bottoms and then snagged Gregory's vest from the floor, holding it to his nose briefly before pulling it on. He bit his lip as he debated a dressing gown, then shook his head firmly. He turned the lights down low before ghosting out the door, leaving it open just a crack so that Gregory would know where he was if he happened to wake and find him missing.

John hadn't moved at all, and he looked over his shoulder in surprise as Mycroft shuffled in shyly. He smiled and patted his leg, waiting for Mycroft to settle onto his knees on the floor next to him, resting his cheek against his solid thigh. John hummed quietly as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Hello, my sweet little kitten-cat... Is something wrong? Couldn't you sleep?"

"I was hoping to talk with you about Gregory, John."

The steady motions of John's strong fingers halted momentarily. "Did something happen? Is he all right?"

Mycroft sighed heavily. "Physically, he is fine. Mentally, however, he does not seem to be quite, well - himself."

John hummed again and resumed his soothing. "He has seemed a bit more wound-up than usual..."

"I think I may know why, and I may have a solution. But I am uncertain."

There was a sudden but not entirely unpleasant pinch at his ear, and Mycroft squirmed delightfully. "So tell me, you silly thing."

"Sherlock should be joining us soon. I believe that this is something that we should all discuss together."

John scoffed gently. "Should have just said so, My." He shoved at his head gently. "Come on, then. I'll make us all tea. And unless Sherlock has absconded with my secret stash, there may even be a few of your biscuits left."

Mycroft grinned as he got to his feet and pulled John up after him. "I would be more than happy to bake you a new batch whenever you desire them, John. You needn't squirrel them away every time."

"I like to. Makes them more special. And it drives your brother near to distraction, knowing that there are some in the flat but he can't lay his hands on them." John threw Mycroft a wicked little grin as the older man giggled again. He nodded toward the kitchen door, and Mycroft dutifully took up his post as lookout as the smaller man dragged a chair across the kitchen and hopped up into the seat, digging into the very back of one of the top shelves in the cupboard. John placed a finger to his lips as he drew out a plate that had been quite obscenely bundled up with plastic wrap. Mycroft felt one eyebrow climb his forehead in surprise. "Practically cuts his most valuable resource right off his face..."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and then tilted his head slightly, leaning one ear out into the hallway. "Quickly, John!"

His voice was hushed as he gestured frantically, and John clapped a hand to his mouth to cut off his own giggles as he soundlessly jumped off the chair and swiftly carried it back to its usual spot. The kettle clicked off just as Sherlock popped his head into the kitchen, eyeing the two men with deep suspicion as they both attempted (and failed rather spectacularly) to look innocent. He huffed with irritation as his gaze fell onto the plate of biscuits, which Mycroft was struggling to de-mummify as John tended to the tea.

John picked up his 'J' mug with an expression of carefully studied unconcern, snagging the plate that Mycroft was holding out to him on his way out of the kitchen. Sherlock scowled after him rather impressively until he was well out of sight, turning to drop a sly wink at his brother as soon as he was gone. He flickered his eyes up at the cupboard that John had most recently rummaged through and grinned cheekily at Mycroft.

Mycroft huffed out a silent laugh, shaking his head. He had known better than to think that John's simple ruse had actually fooled the consulting detective. He smiled gently as his little brother looked to him proudly, obviously pleased with himself that he had not given into temptation and simply stolen the biscuits away in the dead of night. He held out his arms and Sherlock came to him eagerly, touching their foreheads together as Mycroft grasped his shoulders. They shared breath for a few heartbeats before gently rubbing noses and then pressing their mouths together in a tender but chaste kiss.

Without a word, Sherlock pulled away and gathered their 'M' and 'S' mugs, leading the way back into the sitting room. John had settled on one end of the sofa and was contentedly crunching away at a biscuit as the two brothers entered. Mycroft sat in the middle, seeing as how he was the one who had called their impromptu house meeting.

Far back in the beginning, when it was just three, John had attempted to hold some manner of regular gathering, but Sherlock had always chafed at what he had seen as an attempt to control him, and Greg had just seemed mildly amused by the whole procedure. But when Mycroft had settled in, this sort of chat had become a much more common occurrence. Sherlock seemed to recognise that his brother was still rather insecure about their odd arrangement, and Mycroft certainly appreciated the peace of mind that these regular reassurances gave him.

John tapped the elder Holmes on the knee as he reached for another biscuit. "Any time you're ready, sweetheart."

Mycroft sipped at his tea demurely as Sherlock sat propped up against him. "I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that Gregory has been a little more tense than usual..."

Sherlock made a vague noise of agreement as he reached for the plate. "Yes. And distracted. Not nearly as much as that time that you were denying him, of course."

"Sherlock!" John glared at the younger man over Mycroft's bent head. "Seriously? Just let that drop, for God's sake - it was ages ago!"

"Moving on..." Mycroft cleared his throat. "I have a theory as to why that is, and a possible solution, if you are both amenable." John nodded reassuringly as Sherlock slumped down into the sofa cushions with a slight sulk on his face and a biscuit crammed in his craw. "John, do you recall that you once shared a story of your past with us, about your first experience within a Dom/sub relationship?"

"Arianna. Yeah."

"And how after some time had passed, you were feeling somewhat constrained by those parameters?"

John's eyes went a little distant as he nodded thoughtfully. "I think I see where you're going with this, My."

"Indeed. And we are not the only ones that Gregory feels beholden to. I believe that the burden of responsibility that he bears has perhaps become a bit too onerous recently. I think that if control were to be taken out of his hands for an evening, that perhaps his mood would lighten considerably. I, of course, do not feel adequately equipped to do so myself. But if you two were to..." Mycroft faltered slightly.

Sherlock rubbed his brother's thigh. "You have a plan."

"I have an idea. It would take the two of you to make it into a plan."

"Go on, then."

Mycroft blushed as he explained that he had been viewing some of the old footage from before he had come to Gregory, and had happened upon a certain interest that their mutual lover held that perhaps had not been explored fully. Sherlock's eyes began to gleam with excitement as his brother outlined his vague idea. After all, the last time he had attempted to take on aspects of this particular role, Greg had still been very much in charge. And it had been so long ago, so near to the beginning of it all. This time would be different, oh yes. He shivered with delight and abruptly turned sideways, throwing his legs over Mycroft's lap and digging his toes into John's thigh.

"You will be participating, of course."

Mycroft sighed heavily. "Brother... I lack the skill set that would be required."

John chuckled quietly as he reached out to tug on Mycroft's ear. "You don't seem to have any problem topping when it's you and Sherlock."

"That's...different, John."

Sherlock grinned as Mycroft's cheeks flamed. "Yes. He's used to ordering me around."

"Not that you ever listened to me before, you impertinent brat."

"Mm. Think about how complacent I might be now if you had deigned to fuck me all those years ago, brother mine..."

Mycroft snarled quietly as he reached out to dig his fingers under Sherlock's ribs. "Why, you little..."

John cleared his throat loudly as he simultaneously tweaked one brother's ear and the other's big toe. He knew that if he didn't put a halt to their bickering right now, it would soon lead to tussling, which would invariably lead to altogether naughtier activities. _"Boys!"_ He glared until he was sure that he had their attention. "Knock it off, you two. We're trying to focus on Greg here, right?"

Sherlock snorted as Mycroft dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Sweetheart..." John ran his fingers through Mycroft's soft red hair. "You know that isn't necessary."

Mycroft blushed, and looked up in surprise as he felt his brother's long fingers fiddling with the collar of his purloined vest. "Force of habit, John. We'll break him of it sooner or later..." Sherlock pinched his brother's chin lightly and grinned. Mycroft smirked suddenly and captured his hand, swiftly biting down on his delicate wrist. The younger Holmes squirmed even as he hummed in delight. "See - that's all the skill set you will require, brother dear."

"Sherlock..."

"No. Greg would want you there, Mycroft. Even if you do nothing but observe, you must look and act the part. You will wear your most sombre suit, and your most impassive negotiator's face. Oh, and that horribly garish shirt that Mummy gave you a few years back. I know you kept it, even though you've never worn it."

"What's this, then?" John cleared his throat slightly, attempting to re-insert himself into the conversation.

"Ugh." Mycroft's face twisted, but then cleared somewhat reluctantly. "I suppose it isn't all that horrible, not really. It just is terribly bright, and terribly red. Altogether the worst thing for my complexion. Honestly - the woman gave birth to me, you would think she, of all people, should know what colours suit me best. Not only that - it's...it's _shiny_." The red-haired man shuddered delicately. "It practically sparkles, for God's sake."

John giggled as Sherlock snorted. "Well, now I just have to see this monstrosity, although I do think that perhaps you're exaggerating a bit. It does sound perfect for the game, however."

Mycroft's eyes dropped to his hands, resting on top of Sherlock's knees, watching with displeasure as his fingers twitched under his own scrutiny, and he abruptly closed them into fists. He wasn't surprised when John took his right hand within both of his, or when his brother took his left. Mycroft sighed quietly as both men gently pried his fingers open and laid soft kisses on each knuckle and fingertip.

"Sweetness, I understand that you're nervous and maybe even a little uncomfortable with the idea. But you know that Sherlock is right. Greg would want you to be there. He wouldn't be able to immerse himself fully if he didn't know where you were. There will be a bit of theatre involved, obviously. But you don't have to do anything; you might not even have to speak."

Mycroft sighed again, but this time in acceptance. "Yes, John. You are quite correct. I do know that Gregory would be preoccupied if I were not present."

"Excellent!" Sherlock beamed and brought his brother's hand up to his cheek, nuzzling into the palm enthusiastically. "I will take the lead, of course."

John rolled his eyes even as he tucked Mycroft's other hand into his own securely. "Of course. And am I going to be allowed to participate?"

Both Holmes scoffed and exploded into different versions of their own admonitions. Mycroft's were along the line of 'John, if you think Gregory would want me there, surely he would want you there even more'; and Sherlock's were, of course, 'John, don't be obtuse, you will be playing a very vital role, I will give you specific instructions that you must obey to the letter,' and so on. John smiled softly and shook his head as their protests tapered off into mumbled imprecations.

Mycroft hesitated, squeezing John's hand. "Depending on how far the game goes, we may need your, well - your medical expertise as well." John pursed his lips in thought as Sherlock cleared his throat uneasily. "And... Well, I'm rather ashamed to admit this, but I've never even enquired about Gregory's limits. I know that the idea does intrigue him, but he may not be willing to go quite that far."

Sherlock blinked at John and shrugged slightly. John shook his head with a heavy sigh. "You're right, My. None of us has had that conversation with him. He's always been more concerned with giving us what we need, and not making us uncomfortable. I'm sure he would have spoken up if any of us requested something of him that he didn't want to give... Well, reasonably certain, anyway." John nodded decisively. "He needs this. He needs us, all of us, to make it right. Thank you for bringing this to us, My."

Mycroft's shoulders dropped in relief as Sherlock squirmed back into the armrest of the sofa. "We'll set it up for Saturday, then." He released his brother's hand as he brought both of his up to his chin, adopting his usual thinking pose. "This is how I envision it..." John threw an amused glance at Mycroft as they both settled down and listened to Sherlock's outline of the upcoming scene.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg learns of his lovers' gift to him...

Greg sighed as he closed the door to the flat, not allowing himself a moment to pause for breath. If he stopped now, he may as well just lay his old bones down on the floor and nap right there. He usually tried to avoid the office on weekends, but the case that he had recently closed had created even more paperwork than usual, so he had gone in to try to contain some of the madness before starting it all over again on Monday. He glanced aside to the umbrella stand by the door, not entirely surprised to see that it was empty. After all, Mycroft made a regular habit of going into his offices on Saturdays. He would be by later, though, and Greg would be able to snuggle with him to his heart's content before dropping off into a blissful slumber.

For now, he was mostly concerned about hauling his decrepit arse up the stairs and maybe allowing himself a lager before scrounging up something to eat. Hm - maybe there was still some of John's lasagne left from a couple of days ago... Greg's mood was starting to lift as he stepped into the sitting room, shedding both mack and suit jacket with one clumsy move. He snorted at himself as he remembered to hang them up, divesting himself of his shoes at the same time. John should be pleased with that, at the very least. He turned to head down the hall to the bedroom, intent on making himself comfy, and suddenly came up against the very solid, if small, body of one ex-Army doctor.

"Mm." John's arms slipped around his waist as Greg bent down for a gentle but thorough kiss.

"Hullo, love." He knocked their foreheads together lightly. "Care to join me for some leftovers?"

"No, Gregory." Greg blinked and stood straight, cocking his head. He noted suddenly that John was wearing nothing but a dressing gown, and that there was - something - something rather worrying on his neck. He reached for it, and John deftly shifted away from him. "We have a surprise waiting for you upstairs. A new game. You're to shower thoroughly, and put on only a robe, the same as me. I will be waiting for you here."

Greg blinked again as John stepped aside, placing his back to the wall next to the sitting room door, falling into a type of relaxed military stance, his hands folded in front of him. Without a word, Greg strode over to him and placed his hand on his chin, tilting John's head to the side. There were marks on his neck, a mottled bruise and two small holes. He poked at them gently, quickly realising that it was nothing more than a clever make-up job. It certainly looked real enough, as the holes - bite marks - were deep and ragged, angry-looking and weeping fake blood. Greg's hand clenched slightly as his body shuddered involuntarily. He let it drop, and John turned back to look at him, his mouth a neutral pink line, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and mirth.

"Oh, fuck me." Greg shivered again. "Fuck me, _yes_."

"Go on, Gregory. Shower." John flickered his gaze down his lover's body, grinning brightly at the rather prominent bulge in his trousers. "Quickly." He stifled the sharp bark of laughter that tried to escape as Greg turned and headed for the bathroom, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to obey.

Less than ten minutes later, Greg popped back into the sitting room, fumbling with the ties of his dressing gown. The fabric was clinging to his body in a soppy wrinkled mess, and John sighed with exasperation upon seeing it.

"Did you even try to dry off, you impatient bastard?" John 'tsk'ed at him quietly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, which was standing up in damp silver spikes.

"Course I did." Greg shrugged idly, picking at the fabric that was moulded to his chest. "I may have missed a few spots." He bounced gently on his toes as John giggled quietly. "C'mon, John. I want to _see_."

"Pfft. I am perfectly aware of that, Gregory." He fussed with his lover's hair a little more. "But it's part of my job to make sure you're presentable." With that, he ran his hands down Greg's chest, smiling as the older man shuddered under his touch. John deftly unknotted the tie on his robe, settling it back onto his body in a neater fashion before tying it closed again. He took a step back, tilting his head as he studied his handiwork. Then he stepped back in, going up on his tip-toes to press a warm kiss to Greg's trembling lips before clasping both hands in his. "You'll do. Now - I'm pretty sure you know what's waiting for you upstairs."

"I hope I do. I really really hope so."

John smiled gently up at his lover. "Oh yes, my love." Greg bounced a little higher, and John squeezed his hands. "Patience. There's something I need to know first." Greg cocked his head and visibly forced his body to calm itself. "Good, yes." John took a deep breath. "In planning this little gift to you, all of us were rather ashamed to admit that we had never enquired about your limits. I need to know how far you're willing to go, how far you want us to go."

Greg blinked rapidly, his chest hitching on a quiet breath. "Oh. I...well." John waited patiently as Greg pondered, his dark eyes turning inward slightly. "I hadn't put much thought into it, to be honest. There isn't much that I would refuse any of you, and nothing has come up that's turned me off. Nothing at all. I didn't think anyone would even be willing to indulge me in this particular kink, because of course there are risks involved. I would never ask anyone to take that risk."

"But we're offering."

"Exactly. That's what makes the difference." He smiled crookedly. "And - well. I'm willing to take whatever you all are willing to give. I honestly don't know where my limits are in this situation, John. This is entirely new to me. I trust you not to let it go too far." He reached out a hand as John blinked up at him solemnly, fingering the oozy bite marks lightly. "That's why you're this, and not one of them, right? It is them? Are both Sherlock and Mycroft waiting up there?"

"Yes, My is here too. He may not be comfortable enough to participate fully, though. Sherlock's the lead on this one. He's built up quite the elaborate scenario. Apparently, since Mycroft is the eldest, he's technically the leader. I'm going to refer to him as 'my liege'." John smiled as Greg giggled. "Sherlock is my 'sire'."

"Oh! He's enthralled you, then?"

John tilted his head slightly. "Yes, I'm his thrall, whatever that means."

Greg hummed. "Essentially, you're his slave. He can get in your head and bend you to his will. He feeds off you as he wishes and gives you little sips in return. It's not enough to turn you - you're still human - but his blood will lengthen your life for as long as you continue to take it. You cannot leave his side for an extended period of time, and if he stops allowing you your little sips, you wither and die. Oh, and you can only take the blood of the one who has sired you. Any old vamp wouldn't do."

John blinked at him and shook his head slightly. "You really are deep into this whole bloodsucker thing, aren't you?" He smirked slightly as Greg blushed rosily. "You're right, though. They needed a 'human' observer, someone who wouldn't be blinded by bloodlust." He grinned at Greg's excited squeal. "I'm to be your contact with the real world, my love. If you need something, you look to me, and I'll step in. They'll back off, you understand?"

"You're my safeword."

John chuckled, his face heating slightly. "More or less, yeah."

Greg cradled his face in both hands, running his thumbs over his cheeks before leaning in for a tender kiss. "I trust you, my love. I trust all of you with everything in me. I know that you'll do right by me."

John simply clung to him for a moment, letting all of his senses dwindle down to nothing more than Greg's touch, his hands on his face, his oh-so-warm lips enveloping his. He left his eyes closed as his lover's heat drifted away slightly, taking in his breath and mingling it with his own before letting it all out on a soft sigh. He opened his eyes to find Greg looking down on him, his face gentle with quiet adoration, his eyes burning with desire. John's breath caught as his lover's impish grin suddenly lit up his face, making him seem years younger.

He shook himself slightly. "I am sorry, my love." The grin quickly faded as Greg tilted his head, asking without speaking. "I should have seen the signs, I should have known." He tucked himself into the older man's chest, smiling as he cupped the back of his head with one broad hand. "We put all of our trust in you, handed over our power to you. It was too much, and I, out of all of us, should have seen that and should have let you give something back."

"It's not your fault, my love. I din't ask, did I?"

"Because you didn't think you could, Gregory. You've taken on a very specific role, and I don't think you thought you could allow yourself to be anything else. You're always telling us that we can ask anything of you. But none of us has turned around and told you the same thing. And for that, I am truly sorry. So I am telling you now. Now and always. Whatever you need, whatever you want. Just ask. We will do whatever in our power to make you happy."

Greg went a little boneless, his legs trembling as he sank to his knees. John held his arms out to steady him as he fell, smiling to see the tension in his shoulders finally drifting away as he dropped his chin to his chest. He knelt there for long moments, allowing John to caress him gently, running his fingers through his silver hair and down the back of his neck. Greg shivered delicately, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths as he collected himself. Finally, he lifted his face, his eyes a little red-rimmed, but otherwise clear. "Take it back, John. All of it. For today, for tonight. Just make me - nothing." He fumbled slightly with the fine silver chain hanging around his neck, the tiny key glinting in the light. Sighing quietly, he slipped it over his head and held it out to his lover wordlessly.

John's own knees wobbled slightly at the rush of power that jolted through his frame, but he smiled to see the look of utter surrender on his lover's face. "Yes, my love, my heart. That's perfect. God, you're so lovely like this. So unbelievably gorgeous and so very very perfect." He was pleased that Greg had made the gesture voluntarily, rather than having to be asked. During the initial planning process, Mycroft had pulled John aside and explained that he would not be able to participate at all unless there was a clear sign that Gregory wanted him to. They had both agreed that giving up his key would be the signal that Mycroft would need in order to be able let go fully.

Greg watched and nodded slightly as John carefully tucked the chain away in the pocket of his robe. After all, even though he had willingly handed that symbol of his power over to his lover, Mycroft was still very much Greg's Pet, and if John were to slip that chain over his own neck, well... They both understood that would be very much not on, not to mention Mycroft's sense of betrayal if he were to see that key around anyone's neck but his Master's. John bent to kiss Greg's temple, reaching out to grasp at his hands. "Come now. 'Anything in my power' does not translate to me being able to carry your solid arse up those stairs, unfortunately."

Greg looked up at him with delight, allowing his body to be tugged back to its feet. "Mm. Bet you could, if you really wanted to." John blushed merrily, for he knew that the remark was not being made in jest. Greg honestly believed him capable of such a feat of strength.

But he still shook his head. "If I tried, I wouldn't have any energy left for play."

Greg grinned and started bouncing again. "Can't have that."

John tugged on his hand with a small smile and led him up the attic stairs. The door was open just a sliver, a vague murmuring drifting out onto the landing. Greg rolled his head on his neck and settled his shoulders, nodding down at John as he squeezed his hand and gave him an enquiring look. With that, the smaller man rapped on the doorjamb briskly.

The quiet mumbling stopped abruptly, and after an interminable thirty seconds, Sherlock's voice called out imperiously. "Enter."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is presented as a gift to the 'vampire' brothers...

John smirked as Greg's body let out one more strong wriggle of anticipation, then he steeled his expression into one of calm neutrality as he pushed open the door.

Mycroft was standing in much the same manner as he had been when he and Greg had come together in this room for the first time. His back was to the door and he was looking out of the small attic window into the street below, his posture stern and unyielding. The only difference was the umbrella, the handle of which was being clutched rather tightly in his left hand, his knuckles white with tension. His other arm was fully occupied with his younger brother, who was plastered to his front, one arm thrown casually over Mycroft's left shoulder and the other wrapped around his torso. His bare foot was propped up on the lid of the toy box, giving him the leverage he needed to rub against his brother's hip. Not that it seemed to have much effect, as Mycroft remained unmoved, as though he were composed of nothing but stone.

Sherlock had his nose buried in the shoulder of Mycroft's suit, so the only portion of his face that was clearly visible were his eyes, shining brightly in the half-light. They widened slightly as John pulled Greg further into the room and then ducked around him to shut the door. Greg shivered as Sherlock's eyes narrowed minutely, and there was a faint rustling of fabric behind him. He realised that John was disrobing, and put his hands on the belt of his own dressing gown, but there was a hushed 'not yet', so he let them fall to his sides.

His eyes darted over to the small desk, his stomach clenching slightly at the sight of a small lancing device, such as those used by diabetics, and an unopened box of lancets next to it. Greg also felt another swift surge of something - fear, anticipation - desire - as he took note of a sterile package containing a scalpel. There were gloves and antiseptic swabs as well, but even in the package, the sharp edge of the blade caught his eye and refused to relinquish its hold.

John soothed his hand down his back, whispering to him in an undertone. "Just in case - only if you want it, my love. We absolutely do not need to go that far. If you don't want any new holes in this gorgeous body of yours, just say so." Greg nodded briefly and John rubbed his shoulders before stepping in front of him again, completely nude, and this time Greg had to clutch at his own legs to prevent himself from reaching out for that glorious arse and grabbing a hefty handful. Or two, for that matter... He was so focused on that lovely bum that he nearly missed seeing John carefully lay the chain and its key out on the desk, next to that horribly beguiling scalpel.

Sherlock's eyes widened again as he hummed into Mycroft's shoulder, a deep rolling sound that almost could have been a purr. He turned his head to lick a delicate stripe up the elder Holmes' neck, ending with a quick nip on his earlobe. Greg shivered again as Sherlock smiled at him, slow and dark and wicked, his tongue flickering around the points of his prosthetic fangs.

"Oh, brother dear... See who it is. My little mouse has returned to the nest. And he brought a friend. A very tasty looking friend, at that." This seemed to catch Mycroft's attention, as he finally moved, casting a disapproving glance over his shoulder. His cool grey eyes flickered to the surface of the desk, and he gave John an almost imperceptible nod, his fingers flexing and relaxing their death-grip on the handle of his umbrella.

Greg's breath caught in his throat as Sherlock slowly and deliberately unwound himself from his brother, slinking toward him with a dangerous sway to his narrow hips. Of course he was wearing that damned purple shirt, the one that made his skin all that much paler, his hair all that much darker. Of course the top two buttons were undone, emphasising the long, elegant neck, the stark outlines of his clavicle, the beguiling hollow at the centre. And of course he had the sleeves rolled up to just under the elbow, the lean muscles in his forearms tensing beautifully as he stopped and braced his hands on his hips. Sherlock smirked as Greg gulped audibly.

"Stand aside, mouse." John quickly stepped to the side, his head bowed meekly. "Why have you brought this morsel here?"

"A g-gift, sire. To t-thank you for taking me in, for taking c-care of me." He looked between the two 'vampires' uncertainly. "I brought him for b-both of you."

Mycroft cocked one elegant brow, his entire expression dripping with disdain as he turned to face them. "Is that so?"

"Yes, my liege." John grew a little bolder as he settled into his role, standing up straighter and taking a tiny step forward. "I could think of no better way to convey my gratitude to you for allowing your brother to keep me. Especially since you allowed me to go out unsupervised today. I hope that you find him acceptable, but if not, you would be safe in letting him go. He agreed to come with me in full knowledge of what was waiting for him. He will not reveal you to the outside world."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Of course he won't, you foolish child. He must not be permitted to leave. Not alive, at any rate." Sherlock hissed at his brother in startled indignation as John turned pitiful doe-eyes on him, his mouth hanging open in shock. "Do not waste your anger on me, brother dear. He followed your dear pet home, you must deal with the situation. Kill him or keep him, it's your choice to make. Either way, he must not leave, unless you decide to enthrall him as you have this mouse of yours." Mycroft's mouth quirked up in a mocking smile. "Of course, that would interfere with your foolish idea of turning this one, wouldn't it? You must be able to focus all of your energies on your intended, not waste any of your power on any secondary mates. This is why you've never been successful, brother. Too easily distracted."

Sherlock snarled, but visibly shook himself before turning back to John, his expression thoughtful, albeit still fierce. "Why this one, mouse? What drew you to this particular human?"

John swallowed as he turned back to Greg, who had been standing utterly still, completely spellbound by the little drama unfolding in front of him. John sure hadn't been kidding about the extravagance of the scenario that had been concocted. He shifted back and forth on his feet, wincing a little at the stiffness in his knees.

"Well, sire - first of all... Well." He reached out to loosen the belt on Greg's dressing gown, shoving it off his shoulders unceremoniously. "First of all, just _look_ at him." Greg shivered as Sherlock did just that, his teeth gleaming sharp as his quicksilver eyes flickered up and down, side to side.

He took in a breath and let it out on a low hum, circling his quarry several times. "I see what you mean. A fine specimen indeed."  He stopped behind Greg and put his hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms as he nosed into the crook of his neck. Greg trembled uncontrollably as Sherlock chuckled in his ear, lightly running his fangs along the skin of his shoulder. "Oh, brother dear..." Sherlock's voice was lilting, slightly mocking. "Oh, brother mine..." He buried his nose behind Greg's right ear, breathing him in deeply. "Come scent the new morsel. I do believe that you will find his particular vintage very much to your liking." Almost absent-mindedly, he began to rub his clothed erection against Greg's arse, pushing into him and tilting his hips from side to side in soft, slow motions.

Mycroft swallowed, hooking the handle of his umbrella over his arm as he straightened his tie unnecessarily. Greg let his own gaze wander over his lover's form, taking in the glorious details. He couldn't recall ever seeing Mycroft in just a plain black suit before. There was almost always a pattern woven into the fabric, a fine pinstripe, or a delicate houndstooth. The simplicity of this outfit left a very stark impression, especially in combination with the shirt, which was a rather startling shade of red with a slight sheen to it. Not entirely unlike the damned purple shirt that was being dragged back and forth against his naked back right now, in fact. And then there was the tie, another simple black affair. The overall effect was almost ludicrous, like something out of a bad Mafioso movie - except for the ice-cold eyes, the nearly expressionless mask.

If that was the face that he wore to most of his business meetings, Greg had no trouble imagining that Mycroft could no doubt make the most outrageous demands of his opponents, and easily win out every time. The mask shifted ever so slightly, and Greg caught just a flash of his Pet peeking out from those lovely grey eyes for about half a second. But then his eyebrows drew together, and Greg watched with delight as Mycroft's resolve hardened, and of course then he did too, his prick lengthening and going stiff as the vampire looked him over quite clinically.

Sherlock chuckled again. "The morsel is eager for you, brother dear."

Mycroft rolled his eyes even as he fussed with his cuffs, again, quite unnecessarily. "And I am supposed to believe that your shameless rutting has absolutely nothing to do with - that?" He gestured vaguely downward, his eyes widening slightly. "Not that I entirely disagree with your earlier evaluation. He is rather a fine specimen. Strong and - _ahem_ \- hearty."

"He smells divine. Come, brother. It's simply been ages since we've shared a mortal's warmth between us. Let us re-live some of those memories together."

"Centuries, brother. It has been centuries since I allowed myself to indulge in such frivolity. Why should I acquiesce now?"

Sherlock smiled softly. "Because it is something that I am asking of you, brother dear. I would even beg it of you, if that is what you desire. And this one, oh - his blood will be the richest you have yet tasted, even after so many long years. Come scent him, and you will see."

Mycroft snarled, taking one shaky and uncertain step forward, his resistance obviously wavering at Sherlock's words. As the younger vampire chuckled darkly, his tone openly mocking, his brother's eyes suddenly narrowed and burned with a cold fire. "Take care how you provoke me, little one. You know better than anyone living that I would not bother to take my anger out on that helpless mortal. He would tear so easily, and I would be left unsatisfied."

Sherlock hissed suddenly, making Greg cringe away from him slightly. "And what exactly would you do, brother dearest? You could hardly devise a more fitting punishment than the one you provide nearly every day in this house, by taunting me with your proximity and not allowing me to touch you - to taste you - properly." Mycroft stared, utterly aghast, as Sherlock once more pressed up behind Greg and wrapped an arm around his torso. His tone took on a petulant whine as he continued to rub against his human captive sensuously. "Do I really ask so much of you, brother? All I want is the opportunity to share with you as I once did, when we were young and carefree. There is no denying the allure that this creature holds for you - even now you find yourself swaying toward his heat, do you not?"

Mycroft spun on his heel, planting his umbrella into the plush carpeting and leaning on it heavily. He was rather surprised at the path that the scene had taken, that it seemed to be turning into some sort of power struggle between his brother and himself. Although that was invariably what happened between the two of them, no matter what the endgame seemed to be. There was always a struggle, wasn't there? He shook his head slightly. What exactly was he doing, anyhow? They had agreed that he was going to stay out of it for the most part, but instead he found himself wresting control out of his brother's hands. Stranger still, Sherlock wasn't even trying to get it back, other than responding to his own attacks, and being surprisingly reasonable about it, at that. Mycroft could feel his anxiety over the whole thing ratcheting up again, and he quickly realised that while submerged in the role, he hadn't been anxious at all.

He was over-thinking again, that classic Holmes ailment, the mind whirring away at express train speeds, anticipating three steps ahead and utterly failing to remain in the moment. Ridiculous. _Stop it, Mycroft. Just stop it and give Gregory what he needs._ He squared his shoulders just as he heard a quiet intake of breath.

"Please." Mycroft swiftly turned back, a look of sheer stupefaction on his face. Greg bit his lip and held out one shaky hand. "Please, sir. I'm not afraid."

Mycroft tilted his head, taking yet another tiny step forward. "You're trembling, human. What else but fear would cause such a reaction?"

Sherlock hummed against the back of Greg's neck, making him shiver even as he extended his arm further. "He speaks truth, brother. There is no stink of fear on him. No... It's something far more devastating." He inhaled deeply, tightening his grip as he felt his lover's body waver. "Desire. Oh, he is eager indeed."

Mycroft tilted his head and surveyed the 'human' that was reaching out for him, holding himself back by the absolute last threads of his control. Gregory's eyes compelled him forward, and he took another step, imperiously shoving his umbrella in John's direction and smirking as it was taken from his hand with the utmost care. He wrapped his long fingers around that sturdy wrist, blinking serenely as Gregory took in a sharp breath at nothing more than his cool touch. Closing his eyes, he ran his nose along the pulse point of his potential victim's wrist, breathing him in deeply.

" _Oh_. Oh, brother mine..." Sherlock chuckled quietly, his hips in a constant swaying rhythm as he licked and nipped at the skin of Greg's shoulder. "Oh." Mycroft shivered slightly, stretching Greg's arm out straight, continuing to run his nose up until he hit the crook of his arm. His fingers tightened on his lover's wrist as he stuck out his tongue and simply swirled it over the sensitive flesh, just the thinnest of barriers between the blood flowing through Gregory's veins and his eager tongue. He steadfastly ignored Gregory's small giggle and with a quiet snarl, Mycroft opened his mouth wide and bit down, hard enough that one of the sharp points of his false teeth actually broke the skin, but not hard enough to really do any damage.

Greg's knees wobbled dangerously as he let out a loud groan, and Sherlock suddenly stopped swaying, choosing instead to spread his stance and wrap both arms around his lover's torso in order to provide a bit of support. Mycroft ignored both his lover's sudden lack of stability and his increase of breath, licking up the tiny drop of blood that had oozed out of his arm. He abruptly straightened and threw his head back with an expression of absolute ecstasy, and Sherlock once again found himself fighting to keep both himself and Greg upright.

Mycroft's eyes snapped open, a feral light glowing within that caused Sherlock to gasp in wonder. Greg, unfortunately, was already quite out of it - had been from just that first little nibble. Mycroft smirked and fisted one hand in his brother's curls, bringing their mouths together over Greg’s shoulder ferociously. "You were right, my dear. A very fine vintage indeed."

"Sire..."

Sherlock turned a slightly dazed look in John's direction and scowled. John simply nodded toward the bed, reaching out to grab at Greg's arm, ostensibly to assist in getting him situated, but both of the 'vampires' glared so viciously that he stiffened and held his hands up in surrender.

"Yes, mouse. We can take it from here, thank you." With that, Sherlock turned Greg in the direction of the bed, attempting to shove him past Mycroft, whose face suddenly looked dark as thunder. "No, brother. I wouldn't dare to try to lay claim to him. This one - we share." Mycroft dipped his head in curt but impatient acknowledgement, and stepped back slightly so that his younger brother could haul his heavy burden to the bed, sitting him down on the edge of the mattress. Both of the vampires immediately crowded around Greg, long fingers tracing the cords in his neck as the silver-haired man threw back his head, his eyes already half-closed, languorous with ecstasy.

Without a word, Sherlock stretched one hand out in John's direction, waiting patiently until the lancing device was loaded and placed into his palm. Mycroft's eyes gleamed, his lips twisting with a sudden and uncharacteristic doubt. Not at the action that his brother was about to take, but because he wasn't at all certain that he wanted Sherlock to be the one to first spill Gregory's blood in earnest, to take that first full taste. This sort of thing had never appealed to him before, but then - it hadn't really come up before, either. He once again caressed his lover's almost-overly-warm skin, now positively radiating with the heat of his arousal. No, Gregory was unique, wasn't he? Before, he may have turned his nose up at the very idea, but now... Oh. Now, he wanted that taste. He wanted to smear it over his skin and his Gregory's skin and just writhe against him and lick it all up. All of it - he wanted to bloody well _consume_ him.

"My." Mycroft snapped back to awareness as Sherlock called to him gently. His younger brother licked his lips and held out the device, his own doubt swimming in his eyes. Mycroft tilted his head slightly, quickly realising that Sherlock was frightened - cautious of taking it too far, too quickly. He nodded again and took what was being offered to him, running his fingers down Gregory's arm to find that he had already raised it, his dark eyes fixed on Mycroft's face. With a little quirk of his lips, he lifted his lover’s fingers to his mouth and sucked on them lightly, letting one fang drag over the middle digit. Greg sucked in breath and then seemed to hold it as his lover squeezed and then hit the little button.

Greg did not jump as the tiny needle punctured his finger, but then, it didn't really seem like he was regaining his breath, either. Mycroft handed the device back to John, who had insisted that they would be exchanging new lancets every time that Greg was to be pierced. The unfortunate people who had to use these things as an actual medical aid sometimes used them several times, but with each additional poke, the fine needle was damaged, and would start to cause pain or bruised puncture sites. And even though all of the men assembled knew that Greg wasn't really all that delicate, or at all afraid of a little pinprick, they wanted this to be as painless as possible. After all, it was about pleasure, about bringing the man they loved down into a headspace where he would feel like he was simply floating on clouds. Even if those clouds had a bit of a red tinge to them...

Red. Oh, such a lovely deep red. Mycroft held up Gregory's hand, squeezing that finger oh-so-gently, until a small bubble formed on the very tip. He milked it a bit further, and Greg suddenly took in a gasping breath as the 'vampire' licked his lips and then stuck out his tongue, dragging the entire length of it over that single drop of blood, licking it all up. Mycroft seemed to roll it around in his mouth, savouring the crisp saltiness and the vibrant copper tang. He smiled slowly, watching as Greg's eyes fluttered and his body relaxed just a bit more. The elder vampire squeezed the finger again, but he hadn't pierced very deeply, and the tiny wound was nearly closed up already. He did manage to get enough out to coat his lips, and he turned to his brother as he dropped Gregory's hand, reaching out to pull him close by the back of his neck.

Sherlock moaned incoherently and swiped his tongue over his brother's lips, thoroughly licking him clean before plunging that same muscle deep into Mycroft's mouth. They made indistinct noises as they kissed, tiny growls and little moans as their tongues clashed. Sherlock finally pulled away, his chest heaving as Mycroft stared at his plush lips, tinged red with their mutual lover's blood. " _More_ , brother mine."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen... Ta muchly, dearheart!
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, I do have a tumblr. It's like 97.3% cat pictures and 2.5% porn, but I will at least be dropping notifications when I post something new here. Check me out at bitemebat.tumblr.com if you are interested... :)


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